


little clicks

by preromantics



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - College/University, Ficlet, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short glimpse into a AU-future!fic college 'verse! Stiles likes his photography class. /  “I’m thinking I’ll use these for the final in the gallery, though, and call it something like: <i>See, My Boyfriend Does Exist, So Eat It, Delta Phi Assholes.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	little clicks

**Author's Note:**

> Still want to write _all_ the things, so this was a good quick way to get my brain in order! Prompted on Tumblr.

“Are you trying to make a point?” Derek asks, bunching up Stiles’ sheets between his fists and rolling his eyes when deepening his scowl to a near-comical point only makes Stiles give him a brief thumbs up and a ‘that’s it, babe!’ from behind his massive camera lens.

“An artistic one? Sure. I like to let the whole thing come together at the end, though, so who knows,” Stiles says, the click-click-click of the lens as he talks methodically driving Derek insane. “I’m thinking I’ll use these for the final in the gallery, though, and call it something like: See, My Boyfriend Does Exist, So Eat It, Delta Phi Assholes.”

“B minus,” Derek says dryly.

The lens clicks and Stiles briefly pulls back to look at his work, knees bracketing Derek’s foot. “Have you seen your own face recently? Automatic B plus, at least.”

Derek snorts. Not that he doesn’t appreciate (maybe a strong word choice — tolerate with some from of reluctant affection that happens to keep growing year after year? — that’s a mouthful,) just being with Stiles after taking a plane to visit him, the worst form of transportation, or anything. Click, click, click. He definitely expected to be on a bed by this point in their visit, so points for that, but without a camera lens in his face and Stiles still three layers away from being naked. (Naked and smooth and laid out underneath Derek, panting around half-formed sentences pressed into the meat of Derek’s shoulder, maybe with teeth involved, while Derek noses and mouths against the gorgeous dip of Stiles’ neck and makes his way down to —)

“Hey,” Stiles says, putting his camera down, finally, “watch the eyes, buddy. I’m pretty sure my professor knows I’m not that good at Photoshopping yet.”

He goes to lift the camera right back up and Derek stops holding in the growl that’s been vibrating under his skin for the past few minutes, letting out a frustrated noise and knocking the camera out of Stiles’ hands, catching it before Stiles can even suck in a breath to yell at him and setting it on the ground beside the bed out of Stiles’ immediate reach. 

“Oh, come on, I was almost done. I’ve got the perfect plan to cinch an A, just roll over a sec so I can get some shots of your —”

Derek pulls him in by the back of his neck, hauling him up the bed, not even bothering with a response.

“Yeah, alright,” Stiles says after a beat, a beat where his heart rate jumps, a low hum under the noise of campus outside the room, a fluttering feeling under where Derek’s thumb is settled against the pulse point on Stiles’ neck, the same beat all it takes for the familiar scent of Stiles barreling head-on into arousal to spike in the air and make Derek want to groan with how heady it makes him after going a month without. 

“Yeah,” Stiles repeats, dropping his weight fully onto Derek’s thighs, “wow, I can’t believe you’ve been in my bed for twenty minutes and I —”

“I know,” Derek says, can’t help the low edge to his voice, “so shut up and come here.” 

“I am here,” Stiles says, rolling his hips. 

Derek rubs both his thumbs over the top shell of Stiles’ ears and just barely raises an eyebrow, not where I want you, just enough for Stiles to see before he flips them over on the bed, taking Stiles’ bottom lip between his own as soon as they’re mostly level. 

“Point taken,” Stiles groans, open-mouthed and slick, the words vibrating through his chest and against Derek’s fingertips where he has his hand splayed out. “It’s been a month, I’m a little fuzzy on point a to point b, okay, so —”

Derek cuts him off in the most effective way he knows, licking into Stiles’ mouth open wide mid-sentence and spreading his legs so his knees fit around Stiles’ hips. Their teeth click together when Stiles surges up to groan into their kiss and Derek scratches blunt fingernails across Stiles’ chest through his layers, enjoying that particular clicking noise far more than the click of the camera from before.


End file.
